


Murder Most Uncouth

by we_are_the_story



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Ghost!Lance, M/M, Mystery, Supernatural Elements, They dead boi, Though not really becasue its really predictable, Will add tags as I go, ghost!keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 08:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18220766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_story/pseuds/we_are_the_story
Summary: So Keith is dead. So fucking dead. Like. That’s his body, right there. Under a rotting canvas and lying in a forest in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.God, he knew chasing after his hunch was going to end like this. He knew trying to figure out who killed the annoying blue-eyed Latino with the long legs in his Physics class was going to end badly, but not quite this badly. Not with a hole in his stomach and a hole in his temple. And especially not where he actually has to live out his promise of enacting revenge on the people who killed him, if that ever happened. He made that oath when he was seven for fuck sake. Give him a break, universe!But there he was.Now he just needed someone to find his body and get this fucking ball rolling.Or: Lance and Keith are dead. They need to work together and somehow communicate with the living to figure out exactly who killed them and why. And also what the fuck happened to Robotics Lab B2.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I doing this to myself?  
> Expect little to no updates.  
> Honestly, I'm a terrible person.

Keith woke up as sudden and as swift as the bullet that killed him, and as painless as his murder wasn’t. He came into awareness smelling nothing, but recalled the scent of gunpowder in his nose, felt the barrel at his temple, the memory of a hole in his stomach and blood in his throat. The violence of the moments before left a lingering agony, a hatred so deep he felt his bones grinding, his temple throbbing with it.

He snapped his eyes open to the sight of a tree stump, and a bright green bug inches from his face. Mouth opening in a silent scream, Keith scrambled to his feet, leaves and dirt squelching under him, sodden with water he hadn’t noticed until his feet sunk, the mud popping in protest.

He blinked quickly, as if to dispel the rain that didn’t collide with his skin and clothes, and noticed the lump of mud and fabric just where he’d vacated. The mound was soddened with dirty water and caked in leaves both brown and green. It was vaguely human shaped, but the centre caved in like a sunken cake. Keith’s eyes trailed all the way along the figure until he spotted the familiar black boot with the laced double knotted, and froze.

Sometimes he hated how fast his mind could put facts together.

There was something intermittently strange about reaching an understanding about the situation he was in; that he had found his own body wrapped cruelly in canvas and left to rot in the middle of winter, in a forest that was probably in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

And to know in the same instance that he was dead, and that he was most likely a ghost lingering in the human realm, left to wander familiar streets, follow familiar people for god knows how long until he figured out why he was still here and not walking towards the light or some shit like that.

Keith stepped backwards, hand reaching behind him for the tree he knew was there there, relief washing over him as he connected.

Okay so he could touch trees, that was nice to know.

He swallowed, thinking this was about the time he would have begun vomiting. Finding a dead body does not work well with the moral sense in the brain; a person should not be dead, should not be rotting and seeing a body disintegrating when it should be standing and talking and laughing—

God, Keith gagged, but knew he couldn’t do what he knew was probably natural in a situation like this. What _was_ normal in a situation like this? People died all the time in horrific ways and Keith wandered if this kind of thing was more common than going straight into the afterlife or whatever came after. Did people regularly find themselves stuck in the mortal plane, not understanding what part of their unconscious made them want to complete ‘unfinished business?’

He was dead, and he was a ghost and that was his body. Dead, eyes probably deflated, in the stage after rigor mortis probably, muscles relaxed, bacteria slowly breaking down the enzymes or whatever it was that occurred after death.

Keith knew exactly why he was still here. He had sworn when he was younger that if he was killed he was going to haunt the fuckers and get some justice. Maybe get them killed in return, or put in jail for life. Even just having their lives or reputation completely in shambles so no one could see them in the street without snickering, or judging, or glaring.

But he had also promised himself that he would get his body found and buried next to his parents no matter what happened.

So, first thing first. He needed to find life. Humans preferably, but if not, animals should work fine. They’re supposed to be able to see ghosts, right?

Keith pursed his lips and straightened, resigned to the fact that he should probably begin walking. He might find himself somewhere familiar if he started now. Shaking his head, he spun around and squinted through the thick, dense forest and the mass of leaves and twigs that came with it. At least it was daylight out—

Keith strained his ears, listening at the faint roaring noise filtering through the oak and pine.

Was that a car?

Keith leant forwards as if that would increase the noise.

It was!

Which meant there must be some kind of road nearby!

He started forwards with one last look towards his body on the ground. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk and Pidge are driving to Pidge's parents house when they are interrupted by a ghostly figure.

“. . _.will be a nipping 17 degrees early tomorrow morning, making way for the winter storms heading in from the west. . .”_

The car was near silent, the droning of the weather commentator on the radio drowned out by the slam of rain on the roof and windows.

Pidge sat slouched in shotgun, DS held loosely in their hands as their character strolled through the forest densely populated by weeds that sprouted up somewhere between the time they had last played Animal Crossing. Headphones in so they could listen properly without bothering Hunk, they barely felt like they were in Hunks’s car. They were in a forest poorly mistreated by her abandonment.

They sighed, continuously stabbing the B button to rip the weeds from the ground.

“Do you think I should’ve made more slice?” Hunk said into the quiet.

Pidge replied with a terse, “No,” and continued to weed more than they ever had in their life. They stretched their legs out and slumped further down the seat, seatbelt digging into their chin.

Hunk glanced sideways at Pidge, hands tightening on the wheel. “Sit up.”

Pidge sighed again, but straightened. “You made more slice than you should have, Hunk.”

Hunk didn’t say anything in return for a beat, squinting out the window and into the rain. Even if it was daylight, the clouds threatened to suffocate everything in its path with an impending darkness that Hunk didn’t think would ever lift if it did manage to take all the light in the world away. “Do they even like slice?”

Rolling their eyes, Pidge turned slightly. “Hunk, brother. My family would eat caramel slice and peppermint slice and raspberry slice for every meal if they could. And even if they didn’t like slice, they would still be impressed by your thoughtfulness and wish to share what you love.”

Hunk smiled slightly. “Thanks, Pidge.”

“You need a bigger ego,” Pidge replied, and turned back to their game with no more than a second glance. Although they remained sitting straight and didn’t bother trying to slouch.

He refocused on the road a second before a figure in white stepped out from the forest.

“Oh, shit!” Hunk said, panicked, and slammed his food down on the brake.

Pidge screamed and jerked forwards, the seatbelt saving a nasty head injury by mere inches, and the DS flew from their loose grip to smack against the dashboard fall down between Pidge’s legs. “What the _fuck,_ Hunk?” Pidge shrieked, grabbing onto the belt and pulling in away from their stinging chest, gulping in air.

Hunk said nothing and turned himself around to watch out the back window, looking for the boy who seemed to appear from nowhere.

Pidge pulled on Hunk’s ear. “What the fuck are you doing?” they asked, console retrieved from their feet and squished it between their thighs. “Why’d you stop?”

Hunk shushed Pidge with a quick wave of his hand and squinted.

At the figure, who Hunk was now sure had to be male, on account for the short mullet-like hair—It wasn’t though, Hunk thought absently, because the hair (and he couldn’t tell what colour) was the same length all around, covering his eyes as it was—and the vaguely masculine shaped chin.

Hunk found himself caught in the penetrating stare and parted his mouth.

For some reason, he found himself thinking of Lance. Lance, who would have had something to say right about now. His brother, who had been killed, he was sure of it, because Lance wouldn’t have used a gun, and Lance wasn’t like that. Sure, he felt sad sometimes, and Hunk knew he was somewhat lonely without a partner, but Lance wasn’t depressed.

Hunk dimly registered Pidge stilling, too.

“We should keep going, Hunk,” Pidge said quietly, not daring to take their eyes of the boy.

Hunk nodded jerkily, and turned back around, the hairs on his skin standing on end as he eased on the accelerator and crawled forwards, checking the mirrors for cars and resolutely ignoring the glowing figure behind him.

They barely got five metres before the engine spluttered.

Hunk began breathing heavily and said, “I need to pull over.”

Pidge wasn’t breathing. “Okay. Okay. Do it.”

The engine died completely when the wheels came off the road and onto the grass.

Silence settled over them like a cloud, neither daring to utter what they were both thinking; that if they got out of the car, they weren’t sure if they would survive. Hunk didn’t know if the ghost was a friendly, didn’t know if he would die right alongside Lance.

But if the boy was just asking for assistance, and if Hunk ignored the boy, then he would never forgive himself.

Hunk’s seatbelt clicked too loud in the quiet of the car, and Pidge stared at him.

“What are you doing?” They hissed. “Don’t go out there!”

Hunk ducked his head, turning his mouth away from the boy still staring into the car. “I have to. What if he needs help?”

Pidge’s eyebrows lowered. “You idiot, they’re dead! What they fuck do they need help with?”

He shrugged and opened the door into the rain before slamming it behind him, leaving Pidge inside the warm car. Hunk stood there a moment, wandering if this was going to be the last decision he was going to make, and looked over his shoulder, to the boy standing there, transparent and terrifying.

Hunk swallowed thickly and croaked, “Please—” He coughed. “Please don’t kill me.”

The ghost raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Okay,” Hunk muttered to himself, before turning back to the ghost. “I’m Hunk. Was there a reason you got out attention?”

The boy jerked his head towards the forest, and turned to walk towards it.

“Wait!” Hunk wasn’t sure he wanted to go in there. No alone. “Can I bring Pidge?”

A tilted head was the only response. Hunk translated that into vague confusion, but borderline disinterest.

Hunk wrenched the door open and hissed through his teeth, “Get out. He want’s me to follow him.”

“And you want _me_ to go _with you?”_ Pidge’s voice was coated with disbelief.

“ _Yes,”_ he replied, and closed the door again.

A beat later, Hunk heard Pidge’s door open and their auburn hair appeared, glasses immediately drenched in water droplets. Pidge squinted at the white figure, before turning to look at Hunk with a wide eyed expression, and opened their mouth to say something.

Hunk shook his head and motioned towards the boy, pleading with is eyes, as if to say _please just go along with it, please._

Pidge sighed. “Alright,” they said, facing the ghost. “But you should know that the moment you try to kill me I’m running as far away from you as humanly possible.”

The ghost didn’t reply, just moved towards the forest.

Hunk noticed the boy didn’t appear to glide, and did have feet, which seemed to connect with the ground. He didn’t leave any footprints, and Hunk suspected that he wouldn’t be able to leave anything too impressionable in his wake. Yet, Hunk figured, this boy isn’t going to leave too much behind now that he’d dead, so what did it matter?

Pidge’s door closed with a resounding thud and they tailed the ghost, steps too loud, too aggressive. Hunk couldn’t blame them; it was pouring down with rain and even if it wasn’t particularly cold, wet clothes were one of the most uncomfortable things in existence. Locking the car, he followed close behind, wincing as his shoes soaked with water.

Heavier droplets of rain fell from the leaves of the forest as they wove through the trees. Leaves crumbled underfoot and muddy water splattered over his pants. He fought the wince.

The ghost made sure to say in sight and looked behind himself every few metres. Soon, he stopped before a clump of wet fabric stuck in the ground beside a tree stump. He glanced back, before gesturing to it and then brought his hand to his ear, miming a phone.

Pidge choked and stumbled backwards into a tree. “Oh, fuck.”

Hunk blinked down at the dead body on the ground and back up at the ghost, who was glaring at it. “That’s you, isn’t it?” Hunk asked, knowing the answer already. “You wanted someone to find your body.”

The boy nodded and turned to face him. He pursed his lips into a thin line.

Pidge squeezed their eyes shut, turned around, and vomited into the underbrush.

After taking a moment to breathe, Hunk retrieved his phone from his back pocket and called 911.

When he looked up, the ghost was staring at something behind him, frowning hard. Hunk turned around, phone dropping from his ear and squinted into the hazy fog. He saw only large tree trunks and dripping water.

Pidge moaned, heaving.

Hunk diverted his attention, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as they leaned against the tree, knees visibly shaking. “You alright?” He asked.

They shook their head, chin on chest.

And upon returning his gaze to the ghost, found nothing but empty forest.

 

**

 

“So you’re saying a ghost lead you to his body?”

Hunk fiddled with the Styrofoam cup he had been handed by a nervous looking officer five minutes ago. He had finished the coffee in two swallows, trying to get the lingering exhaustion from his head. “I mean, it’s not that far-fetched considering. . .” Hunk said slowly, tracing the cup’s edge.

The broad-shouldered detective nodded slowly. “Yes, that is true,” she said. “However, you must understand that the fact you found a body an hour from anywhere is suspicious.”

“Well, that is the ideal place to hide a body, no?” Hunk pointed out, then paled. “I mean, I assume so! I mean there are better ways to get rid of a body—not that I know that!”

The woman chuckled. “Don’t stress yourself out too much there.”

Hunk slumped. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, Hunk was it?” She said, glancing down to the paperwork she had been filling out for the last hour as she took his statement. “I don’t believe you are responsible for the murder of our once-lively John Doe.”

Hunk perked up. “I’m free to go?”

“Yes, but don’t leave the state. We might need to catch up with you later.” She sent him a pointed look, as if to day _I dare you to object._

Hunk sagged again. Who knows how long he’ll have to spend here before he could return back home? Maybe he could bunk with Pidge. They were going to share a room for a couple of days anyway. “I understand.”

“Good,” she said and signed the forms with a final flourish. She planted her hands on the desk and stood. “You are officially free to leave.”

Hunk followed her cue. “Thank you.”

She smiled and pushed a lock of white hair from her forehead. “No need to thank me.” She stooped to hand him some flyers. “Now if you wish to talk to someone about what happened tonight, there are some excellent places here that handles traumatic events spectacularly. Don’t hesitate to talk to someone if you need to. There’s no point bottling it up.”

“Thank you,” Hunk said again, blinking down at the brightly colour papers. He looked to her name badge. “Really, I—Thank you. . .Allura.”

“You are very welcome.” She looked over his shoulder. “I think your friend is finished now. Excellent.”

Pidge plastered themselves to Hunk’s side in an instant, shoving their face into his shoulder. “Hunk,” they groaned. “ _Hunk.”_

“I know,” Hunk said, wrapped an arm around their shoulders and pulled them into a hug. “You alright?”

“I think that is an _emphatic_ no,” they replied into his chest. “I. . .am not okay.”

“Time to go home?”

“ _Please.”_

Hunk turned the office that had followed Pidge. A tall man with a nasty scar across his nose and a tuft of bleached hair at the front. “Is there anything else they need to do?”

He shook his head, lips pursed. “They’re good to leave.”

“Cool,” Hunk said. “Off we go.”

 

**

 

“You just _had_ to bring them into this, didn’t you?” Lance sighed as he leant against the window in Hunk’s car, seatbelt un-latched because _that_ would definitely point to his presence in the car. “I mean, out of all the people to come across a random ghost in the middle of nowhere, a ghost dead-set—ha—on someone finding their body, it just _had_ to be my best friends, didn’t it?”

Keith scowled at the back of Pidge’s head. “How was I supposed to know it was them? It’s not like I could look into the car before I stepped out on to the road! It was dark!”

Lance scoffed. “You could have been invisible first!”

“Then I wouldn’t be able to get _anyone’s_ attention!”

“Shouldn’t have got yourself killed then, dipshit!”

Keith whirled around. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me? Seriously?”

“What?” Lance retorted.

“ _You’re dead, too!”_

“Hey, fuck you!” Lance shouted. “That’s not my fault!”

“And you think me being dead was _my_ fault, do you?” Keith sneered.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past you!”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?” Keith seethed.

Lance flailed his arms. “Hey, I’m just saying you look like you’re the kind of person who would go searching for trouble and get yourself killed because of it!”

“You’re such a fucking _asshole!”_

“Oh, _I’m_ the asshole?” Lance said. “ _Really?”_

“I know what I said!”

“At least I didn’t drag innocent people into my business and scar them for life!”

“God, are you kidding me?! I said it was an accident!”

“An _accident?”_ Lance barked a laugh. “Oh _sure._ But when has Keith Kogane done anything _accidentally_ in his life?”

“I have made plenty of—”

Keith halted. Blinked.

“How do you know my name?”

Lance stared. “What?”

“How to you know my name?” Keith repeated. He grabbed Lance by his bicep, fingers digging into flesh. He wouldn’t leave a mark, but he held on tighter. He didn’t want to let go.

“Um. . .because we went to the same university?” Lance said, brows furrowed. So different to his usual cocky smirk. He glanced down at Keith’s gloved hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not—” Keith breathed carefully. “But we were never in the same circle. You never talked to me! I only knew your name because they found your body on campus and I heard whispers everywhere.”

“I know,” Lance said slowly. “I was there.”

“But you were dead!”

“My best friends were there. I follow them now.”

Keith’s chest heaved. “But then how do you know my name?”

“Dude,” he said. “You realise you were like the most cryptic person on campus?”

“Cryptic—” Keith spluttered. “I don’t—what does that even _mean?”_

“It _means,_ Keith,” Lance said. “That no-one knew who you were besides your name, the fact that you never talked to anyone _and_ you broke Iverson’s nose! How do you not know this?”

“People. . .people pay attention to that stuff?” Keith stammered.

“For christ—” Lance sighed, grabbed Keith’s hand and looked him straight in the eyes. “Look. Keith. My buddy. My ghosty pal o’mine—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“The point is this. You are fucking crazy.”

Keith scowled. Wrenched his hand away and stared out the window. He glared at the houses as they flew past. “I can’t believe you.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me now,” Lance said, grinning smugly.

“I could leave whenever I wanted to. Make myself known by whoever I want,” Keith pointed out.

“Yeah, but I think this is the only way you’re really going to know what’s going to happen to your killers. Man, is Pidge ever going to stick their nose into this. It’s going to be a train wreck.”

Keith growled. “God damnit.”

“I’m right.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“Fuck you, you—”

“Hey, do you think Lance is with us right now?”

Lance and Keith immediately stopped arguing and turned their attention to Pidge who had paused their game and tucked it into the bag at their feet.

Hunk gazed into the mirror and looked right through them, eyes strangely glazed over. “I. . .I don’t know.”

“I am, Hunk,” Lance whispered.

“I like to think he is.” Hunk turned back to the road lit up by orange-yellow street lights. “But I also like to think that he moved on an found himself somewhere happy. Maybe he joined his Abuelito and they’re both sat next to each other. Knitting. Playing video games.”

Pidge hummed. “That would be nice.”

Lance sniffled and wiped at his nose with a sleeve.

“At least he isn’t pining after—”

Lance squawked and leapt towards her, between the seats. “NO! Don’t say their name you fucking gremlin bitch!”

Keith frowned. He didn’t hear the rest of that.

“Yeah. But you know.” Hunk blinked at the road as Lance sat back. “It’s not like he could do that anymore anyway. If he was still. You know.”

“Alive.”

Lance wiped at his face completely unsubtly.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Oh, for Christ sake—here.”

Keith touched the mechanism and rolled the window down a couple inches.

The car screeched to a halt for the second time that day. The window wipers whirred in the resounding silence as Hunk and Pidge spun around and stared at the window. They had heard it go down. But surely—

Lance swallowed thickly. “Why did you do that?”

“You want them to know you’re here, don’t you?” Keith replied, rolling the window up without looking away from him.

“I can’t touch them, Keith,” Lance said. “I can’t—I can’t let them know I’m still here.”

“Lance?” Hunk whispered.

Pidge scanned the back seat, as if willing Lance to appear before them. “I know you’re fucking here, you asshole. Show yourself!”

Lance sunk back. “You can’t make me.”

“Please, Lance.” Hunk gripped his seat with white knuckles. “I need to know if you’re there. I need to see you.”

“Just touch their hands, at least,” Keith said.

Lance nodded firmly. He lifted his hands, the shaking obvious. They hovered in the air for half a second before he grabbed his friends’ hands in a tight grip.

Hunk burst into tears as his fist tightened in the material of his seat cover. Pidge flipped her hand around but kept it open. They both knew they couldn’t initiate any kind of contact, even to switch position.

“This is. . .” Pidge said. “Such a strange turn of events.”

“I fucking know,” Lance replied. “Keith died, too? So weird.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi it's me again.  
> First Chapter. Yay.  
> Lets see if I can actually do this properly.  
> Also, there's probably so many errors, but honestly I don't even care. I'm supposed to be doing homework, but I'm like. . . I could be doing this?

**Author's Note:**

> So there's that.  
> Fuckin...I dunno. Leave a comment or something?


End file.
